#which isn’t very “i just came from church” of them but whatever

[solar-halos]

another sunday, another ask game!!! i think it would be so fun to build a hear me out cake bc i think you guys would DELIVER on actual hear me out worthy characters. i think this game would be perfect for going on anon but since i cant do that ill just go ahead and say that this is mine

[phightingheadcanons]

Let’s talk about the factions and their SFOTH ties! More specifically, which deity I think watches over each domain.

For starters, I know there isn’t enough factions for everyone. The deities are cool with this, and travel freely between them all. Just because one deity is protecting a region doesn’t mean that others can’t visit.

What are they ‘protecting’ you may ask? Well, the definition changes between deity to deity. But the general consensus is that they’ll only step in if something REALLY bad happens, like a faction invading another.

Crossroads - Not sure if this counts as a faction, but it’s also canon that this is Firebrand’s domain. He didn’t do anything drastic to the place unlike his sister, but I like to imagine that Windforce peer pressured him into flipping that pyramid statue thing on its head. To “mark the region as his” or whatever. Eh. He could have done much worse. Ironically, Firebrand doesn’t visit this faction the most out of his siblings. Don’t get me wrong! He happily interacts with anyone he comes across. No myths or legends here. Just a chill fire grandpa. It’s just that Venomshank spends way more time there, but more so as an observer.

Playground - It’s already canon that Windforce watches over Playground lol. While she might not care about mortals too much, she probably likes kicking back and watching Playground’s usual chaos unfold. Heck- she’d probably contribute to the random street phights as well, picking a side to cheer for and disorienting the others with wind gusts. She lifted an entire faction into the sky just because she could iirc. It’s not too far fetched lol. None of the other deities like spending time in Playground, besides Darkheart for whatever reason.

Blackrock - Blackrock is like. 80% snow and ice. Of course Icedagger’s going to be watching over it! Is he particularly fond of the region, or its inhabitants? Nope. But he still protects the place out of obligation. They say that when he actually makes an appearance down there, the wind weakens, and the snow falls more gently. But if he’s in a bad mood, then the already-terrible weather will take a turn for the worst. Illumina is neutral towards Blackrock, and can be sometimes spotted amongst the snow.

Lost Temple - Illumina is the protector of Lost Temple. He is also very much aware of the church, but doesn’t pay it much mind (he thinks. No. He KNOWS that he’s above whatever those mortals might be worshipping.) Some Inphernals claim to have spotted an odd purple figure walking along the dunes, but most chalk it up to mirages. Others say that this purple stranger will stare at them from a distance, before vanishing. Ghostwalker is mildly interested in the goings-on of Lost Temple, with his sightings being even more scarce than Illumina’s.

Thieve’s Den - Call me crazy…but I’m saying that this would be Venomshank’s region. Besides the occasional zombie or Sisyphus, Venom usually only appears in-person during festivities or events. And even then, his visits became even more scarce after Sword came along. While it’s not his domain, I think that it’d be Ghostwalker’s favourite region regardless. In comparison to all the other regions, Thieve’s Den is the least chaotic (to him, at least.)

— 🍃 anon

ooohhh yeah

i like to think that having to look over a faction would be at least something to do but they end up neglecting it anyways which is why they have very distinct cultures than the themes of the gods looking after them

[sepublic]

Haha we meme on Stilgar as the funny "LISAN AL-GAIB" man but tbh I think there's a lot of nuance towards his character arc in how he doesn't really start off that way? In the context of Part 2, I mean. Because I think of how early in the film he approaches Jessica about becoming Reverend Mother, and he pretty blatantly acknowledges that Paul isn't necessarily the Lisan al-Gaib; The way Stilgar has to basically strong arm Jessica into agreeing doesn't come across as a fanatical worshipper appealing to his gods. He knows he holds power over these outsiders and he's blunt about it behind closed doors, more or less admitting that he isn't 100% sure but this Lisan al-Gaib figure is very useful for helping the Fremen overthrow their oppressors, so that's where Stilgar is throwing his lot.

It reminds me of a lot of the discussion regarding the Catholic church, particularly in regards to stuff like Galileo. I remember a lot of the mainstream assumption being that the Pope and his followers were superstitious guys who were genuinely afraid of deviating from the Bible, but then actual historians came around and painted a more realistic picture; In the end, it wasn't that they necessarily thought the sun went around the earth. It was that by challenging what the church decreed, Galileo challenged their authority and made them seem weaker; And so they had to double down on their geocentric understanding of the universe to defend that. Similarly, King James I didn't necessarily believe in witches, but they did provide a handy boogeyman to rally his people against, and make himself seem like a more legitimate leader.

That's how I see Stilgar, as he starts off; He doesn't necessarily worship the Lisan al-Gaib, but he believes that a messianic figure is just the kick the Fremen need to rally together and defeat their colonizers. Everybody loves a martyr, after all. He might chant about the Mahdi, but his priority has always been the Fremen people, and he is their true leader, with Paul being the puppet face he's pushing everyone into paying attention to.

The scene where Paul denies being the Mahdi, only for Stilgar to be like "Omg the Mahdi is so humble that means he is the Mahdi!!!" feels less like he actually thinks this, and more like... He's bullshitting his way into interpreting whatever Paul does, even if it seems fairly anti-Mahdi, as proof that he's the guy the Fremen need. Paul denouncing the idea was pretty inconvenient but Stilgar found a way to make it work; I guess it’s like how Jessica is also trying to push an unwilling Paul to embrace his role, but for different reasons. And Paul and Stilgar seem much more in tune with one another over how far they’ll go, because they’re much more in agreement about this being for the sake of the Fremen; Indeed, before he drinks the Water of Life, Paul seems to begrudgingly go along because he’s been convinced that it will help these people that he realizes he cares about too, which leads to his outburst at his mother when he feels her motives are insincere (unlike Stilgar’s).

So Stilgar is, for a while, the actual leader of the Fremen, and he is knowingly using Paul and Jessica for his people's freedom, without being aware that he's falling for the Bene Gesserit's propaganda to begin with. He thinks it can't be that bad, he's got a handle on it, but Chani knows better. And I should clarify that I don't blame Stilgar for this, he is an indigenous leader fighting back against colonization who desperately needs what he can get, and Paul and Jessica do end up colonizing the Fremen themselves.

Plus, he's still fairly decent to Paul himself, because even if Stilgar doesn't necessarily consider him the messiah, he still views Paul as an ally that can help the Fremen; That's how he becomes a friend to Paul. When Stilgar pulls Paul over and reassures him not to get a Sandworm too big, everyone already believes in him, it feels like they’re both in on the mutual secret that Paul isn’t necessarily the messiah but he IS a rallying figure for the Fremen, so they both play into that for the sake of the Fremen, right? There’s still enough of a level field that Stilgar can pull over the Mahdi for a private conversation away from the others about something potentially scandalous, rather than the other way around.

But then that friendship is ruined, because somewhere along the way Stilgar sees Paul's achievements rack up, and get closer and closer, in an uncanny way, to the prophecy; And Stilgar begins to think, Oh hey that's actually just like what was written. Okay that's only what a Lisan al-Gaib could do. Holy shit I think he might actually, literally, be a magical chosen one. And now Stilgar is willing to eat his own shit for Paul if the Lisan al-Gaib told him to. And that's why Paul mourns their lost friendship, because you can't have a real friendship with such an inherent power imbalance between worshipper and their God.

And it's all pretty sad to me, that Stilgar started off as a dude basically entertaining what he acknowledges may be a white lie, for the sake of his people... Only to find himself realizing this 'white lie' might be the real deal, and being so caught up in that revelation that before he knows it, he now prioritizes the Lisan al-Gaib over the Fremen this guy was supposed to be for. I think of how Stilgar kneels to sacrifice himself so Paul can become leader, as tradition; But then Paul says no, and Stilgar defies his own Fremen tradition because the Lisan al-Gaib told him to.

He lost sight of who this was supposed to be about, and that's why Stilgar sees nothing wrong with leading his fellow Fremen off of their homeworld to die fighting a bunch of strangers on foreign worlds. He doesn't object to Paul holding hostage their own way of life. He wasn't exactly superstitious, or at least Stilgar had people he prioritized over those beliefs; But when you see so many miracles, you begin to fear the divine and hold it above all else. Stilgar and Paul both felt the need to push this Lisan al-Gaib idea as a necessary evil, the only way to help the Fremen out of their dilemma, only to become fanatical mad men by the end of it. Maybe the idea of a Messiah seemed an easy lie, a safer and more practical way out of colonialism; But it ended up being colonialism but with a different, unrecognizable face. Because despite the promise to liberate Arrakis from the Harkonnens, the Fremen ended up worshipping a Harkonnen.

[devourable]

Loving Abraham ;) as a very religious person myself I cannot help but see the wavering of his convictions and want to help him stabilize. The conflict between his morality and his desires really gets to me. Especially since I’ve done that same sort of rationalization when it came to my own temptations. I wonder what you think would happen if he met an equally religious darling, who saw through his struggles and, rather than suppress his desires, hopes to urge them in a healthier direction? Would she succeed? Or would he be too unwieldy and possibly drag her down with him? For example, how would he react if his darling suggested perhaps they marry early (like within the year) so that their inevitable consummation isn’t sinful?

Also I have so many other questions ^^; Like how would he approach his darling? Would he actually ask her out or just stalk her? What would his parents think about him dating? Do his yandere tendencies come purely from his uncontrollable lust? Or would he still exhibit yandere behavior even when his lust is quelled? Is he the type of yandere to imprison or isolate his darling?

i will answer the rest of your questions via a rb!

✝️ church boy x equally religious darling

i touched on it a tiny bit before in an ask about a darling from a different religion. abraham would be … conflicted about a darling with a similar upbringing to him, at first. what if you love your religion more than you love him? would you choose your faith over him if you had to? those thoughts would plague him but he’d never vocalize them.

but even with that, he'd easily grow to love getting to attend church with you, go to bible study with you, do everything part of his usual routine with you included — it'd only solidify the idea that you were meant to be together in his head. you fit into his life so perfectly, how did he ever live without you? it's so obvious that this is how things were meant to be.

he'd slowly but surely begin to confess how he feels, to an extent, expressing how you're always on his mind and how he hates being apart from you. he wouldn't go into detail (partially to avoid freaking you out and partially because he doesn't know how to put his feelings into words), but he'd spill enough to give you an idea. so for you to be so receptive in a positive way, to be willing to try and guide him in a way that allows him his love for you and his faith... it'd honestly only worsen his obsession with you. especially if/when you float the idea of getting married to him.

it'd drive him crazy knowing you wanted him, and you were willing to take such a major step so soon in your relationship just so you could have each other and still be virtuous. you must love him a lot to be willing to do that! and who is he to deny you such a thing?

getting to do whatever he wanted to you, with you, with your belongings (which also belong to him, now!), and for it to all be perfectly fine in the eyes of ***? it'd be a dream. you'd be all he could think about even well after the fact.

abraham can't ever fully drop his yandere tendencies, even with the help. he can't let go of the intense rush he feels whenever he does something he knows he probably isn't supposed to do, but it doesn't hurt anyone when he follows you around town, does it? he's only making sure you got home safe when he watches you sleep. and it's only natural that he punishes the people that hurt you. he could never stop doing that, he loves you! besides, you're together forever now, so what does it matter?

any off color thing abraham does is validated by your religion. and he's willing to pull at the rules a little to ensure you're in agreement. surely you knew what you were getting yourself into when you suggested spending the rest of your lives together.

it's till death do you part, after all <3

[ilovesmosh55]

This is a certified fire emblem headcanon info dump post . Bullet points copied and pasted from my notes app for the most part so sorry everyone if the formatting or grammar or something is weird

Exactly how the Nabateans work isn’t ever fully explained in game so this is. My take on it based on hints from the game and the characters’ relationships with each other and with Sothis:

-Sothis is an otherworldly alien being who DID come from far beyond the stars. Her lifespan is unfathomably long compared to an average human’s (if not just infinite/indefinite. I imagine as long as her home star shines she could live forever) and her godly power is basically like. An average human’s ability to wield magic times one bajillion. Naturally just has More Magic.

-She left the rest of her kind behind to visit earth and settle there but she doesn’t talk very much about her life before earth to anyone even her closest family. She greatly prefers life on earth and forming human connections to… whatever was going on back on the blue sea star.

-She created her children not by giving birth but like the games said . With her blood. She can just sculpt a human form from Anything, press together a crest stone, and blood-let on it a little bit, and badda bing badda boom new Nabatean. A Nabatean’s abilities, dragon form, and personality can be influenced by what she created their vessels out of. The first ones were created from the clay and mud of the earth she landed on hence the name Nabatean meaning earth dragon lol.

-Sothis DID love and want to watch over humanity, despite not being omnipotent and all-powerful like the Church claims. Creating her children and living among them and humans side by side was sort of her way of expressing that love.

-Despite not claiming to be omnipotent and all-powerful, Sothis’s strange appearance and abilities lead the people of Fodlan to begin calling her a goddess and worshipping her, which she happily accepted and encouraged. The idea that she watches over all life from above and is the arbiter of every soul came along with the church after she died (and is not really true). During her lifetime, she was just worshipped and was the queen of Zanado

-Sothis can create and bring life to a Nabatean at any age/stage of life. Rhea is one of the few she created as a baby rather than a fully grown adult, and she raised her as her own as a result.

-Seteth and his brothers are one of many “batches” of Nabateans made as adults and as a result they aren’t nearly as close to Sothis as Rhea is/was.

-Specifically, Macuil seems to even resent Sothis as he mentions byleth “stinking” of her during his battle. I imagine he’s the eldest brother and resents her for seemingly “abandoning” him to watch his brothers alone when others like Rhea got centuries of her time, love, and attention.

-Nabateans are all created by Sothis and most of them view her as a mother or at least a distant family member/matriarch figure but unless specifically made by Sothis to be siblings (as Seteth and his brothers were. Made as a matching set.) Nabateans aren’t actually related to each other. Sothis travelled all over Fodlan and probably other parts of the world too and created countless sets of Nabateans based on all different types of people. She would often make a few sets/unrelated individuals at once so that her creations/children could have like-minded company.

-Flayn’s mom/Seteth’s wife was also a Nabatean but from another “clan” and therefore yknow not his sister. Rhea Seteth and Flayn only really see each other as family in 3h because they are the last of their kind and feel the need to bond together for safety.

-Seteth and his brothers were based on whatever the Fodlan equivalent of Celtic people is. Rhea was made as a baby for Sothis to raise herself and is made more closely in her image than most of the others.

-Nabateans DO age, but very veeerryyy slowly. Rhea was pretty young, about the equivalent of 19 when Sothis was killed and the war of heroes started. By the time 3H canon begins, she’s about the equivalent of 38-41-ish. Seteth is about 40 in human years too, though he’s actually much younger than Rhea because he was created after her but was created as a young adult. Flayn is the equivalent of 15. Was only like 12 when she was injured and fell asleep back in the day.

-Sothis’s body, like when she was alive properly, will never die/rot so long as the blue star shines. However, the other Nabatean’s bodies DO rot but again. Veeerrryyy slowly. It would take centuries before they’d start to smell off.

-Other Nabateans, especially ones created later who weren’t raised and taught how to use their power by Sothis herself are not nearly as powerful as she was. Rhea is one of the strongest and was raised by Sothis personally but even she can’t control herself and goes crazy if she overuses her dragon form too much.

-Rhea was able to create Sitri/the other failed mom vessels because she was taught how to by Sothis. Probably watched her create many other Nabateans. However, since she is not nearly as powerful as her mother (and was just reusing the crest stone of a dead woman), Rhea’s vessels are far more fragile/sickly and humanlike. Most of them died very shortly after being created from their bodies basically being unable to sustain themselves. Sitri was pretty sickly and feeble but she was actually the healthiest and longest living one

-If not properly utilized and honed, Nabatean’s magic also fades over time, hence how Seteth’s brothers are now basically stuck as dragons. They didn’t transform for so long that they got rusty and probably can’t anymore.

[salvatwh0re]

Did you have an religious trauma or are toj religious like I know were god and stuff I’ve always believed there’s something beyond traditional religion at play but at the same time sometimes i think god is making fun of me or punishing me until I repent or something that’s why the law isn’t working but I know that’s not true it’s just my anxiety but still do u have any experience with that or advice. Sometimes I’ll for to church (by force) and the sermon is abt something I’m doubting like god is trying to speak with me or something and make me give up and repent

Omg yes! I grew up in a very religious christian/catholic hispanic family on my mom’s side. My dad’s side was a lot more open minded and spiritual, so i was a bit torn throughout my childhood. My mom would also force me to go to church because she didn’t want me to end up like my dad (with no true religion) and so that was always in the back of my mind because i didn’t want to disappoint my mom. Then i started questioning myself like do i really believe in god or do i just want to not disappoint my mom. Then i found out that god doesn’t like gay people and he sends them to hell or whatever and that made me really sad because at that time one of my favorite cousins had just came out and she’s such a good person always helping out the homeless and going in mission trips so i didn’t understand how someone who did such good things would end up in hell simply because they loved someone.

In the end I realized it wasn’t that I don’t believe in God, but that I didn’t like the way the religion worshipped him. It was very culty and contradictory. And although I still went to church with my mom (which i felt very guilty about), I could seem to be frustrated with myself I would always ask myself why i couldn’t just be normal and be religious. Then I found out about manifestation in 2019. And i had a grand realization that I’m in control of my destiny and it’s not already decided for me by some big angry man in the sky. And that the higher power is a part of me and not as demanding and vindictive as they make it seem in the bible. So i’m not an atheist lol, but I just don’t believe in the way christians perceive god/ the higher power.

When I started realizing that “I am god” I did have a moment where just felt lost like I was doing something wrong and I should be ashamed. It was difficult especially when i always had my mom in my ear preaching the gospel. I would definitely say it made it harder for me with the law of assumption/ the void state and shifting because I always had that doubt in my mind. Like what if my mom is right and i’m just going down the wrong path. But then I had way too many success stories of my own for it to be a coincidence. I felt a lot happier than I did when i was practicing christianity.

To answer you question, yes I do feel like that was holding me back, it was definitely a HUGE limiting belief that i didn’t even think about getting rid of. But i think the best way for you to get over that is to trust that there is a higher power and there is a god, but that instead of punishing you for discovering your own path, it will allow you to find your way with a little bit of guidance. So really i’m not saying that you need to completely abandon your religion to be able to manifest or tap into the void state, because that’s not it at all. There are so many people in very strict religions that have been able to manifest their dream life while still sticking to their religion. Manifestation and the void is not against any religion. It’s a natural human right and ability, we do it every day whether we’re conscious of it or not. For the problem wasn’t whether manifesting was against my religion or not, it was the fact that I was straying away from my religion and that the LOA community helped me realize how much my religion was holding me back.

If your concern is that it’s against your religion, trust god would not have given you the ability to do it if it were a sin. The void state is not some outside force, in fact if anything the void state would help you rid you of your sin because in that state you’re free of all intrusive, negative, and limiting thoughts. Creating your own path is nothing to repent for.

[itwasthisorthemilitary]

March 28, 2024

Class reached a fever pitch today and ended with a fight that has been a long time coming. We all dispersed, separately bitching to our closest confidants. After all was said and done I decided to go for a solo walk up the big hill. The clouds were rolling in and I just wanted to feel the breeze and rain, if it was ever going to come. I spent a good 45 minutes on the hill just by myself, eating a lemon I picked from a tree, petting a cow, decompressing. I came home relatively early and we had dinner very early tonight because of the activities commencing in the evening. Dinner was one of the top 10 I’ve had here. Sughedys can cook.

Then I got changed and headed to church for the washing of the feet and the silent procession. I had a really interesting experience at Church tonight. I walked down with my mom and Elianis and saw Megan sitting outside the church alone. Megan’s personality is best described like a wonderful camp counselor. She’s bubbly and more patient than any of us here. But tonight she looked so defeated. She explained to me that since coming to Panama she’s really missed going to church, especially as we approach Easter. But her family here isn’t religious so she didn’t know if/how she could attend the service tonight. She was close to tears explaining to me that she was just going to sit outside to listen in. I asked Sughedys separately if it would be okay if a Megan went home and changed and sat with us. I also asked to make sure that this wouldn’t rub Megan’s parents the wrong way.

I will never appreciate church the way Megan does, but I can appreciate the look on her face the whole service.

There’s also something to say about sisterhood in the church. Universally when put into a situation when it’s expected to be on your best behavior, suddenly everything becomes hilarious. Elianis and I were consumed by a fit of laughter.

The whole time it was so freaking hot (really had to refrain from saying “goddamn hot” there) and I wanted nothing more than to not be sitting there. It was a long night, I definitely didn’t feel God in that church, but I did feel tired. At the bare minimum, Catholicism in Spanish is relatively easy to understand so maybe the best thing I got out of tonight was some language practice.

March 29th, 2024

Today was one of those days that made me excited again. Second night in a row that I have slept SO well. Also, I slept in until 7:30 which is wicked late for me (clearly i missed the procession but no one cared).Today Caitlin, Audrey, and I went to Octavio’s farm for the day. Octavio is my uncle? Grand uncle? Whatever, he lives next door. I’ve never spent much time talking to him but today I really got to know him. He has a farm about 30 minutes away by car and he fully runs it all on his own with no help. It’s beautiful. He dreams of planting a lot more coffee in the coming years. We picked fresh pineapple off the bushes and ate them right there. We spent the whole day with absolutely no agenda; walking around, reading in the hammock, chatting, and then all the women prepared a huge lunch. It was such a chill day and now I have that nice sun sleepy feeling in my head. Absolutely no qualms with spending the whole day with Audrey and Caitlin, and we got a lovely change of scenery.

Many many photos to come

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

I hate researching occult and spiritual stuff in general because everywhere you look for information is rife with people into it as a gimmick who use fancy words but do not explain what the fancy words mean, or how anyone arrived at the conclusions they seem to be jumping to; and it’s also rife with people trying to scam the very soul out of their viewers.

“There is a book banned by the church which says there are three types of humans………” and then he never says the name of the book in the short. When you scroll in the comments, the first one pinned is his own comment: a promotional code to buy a book HE WROTE. Like wow you’re not even trying to be convincing at this point. Shut the fuck up and get a real job💀💀

I don’t want your pseudoscientific, pseudospiritual, phrenological, appropriated nonsense; I want diagrams and manuals. I want source material. I want to talk to a ghost. I want to behold the other side and see if it’s even there.

Okay so one thing I have consistently seen in videos of people documenting paranormal activity is the use of an EMF detector, because whatever it is we perceive as ghosts or spirits causes spikes in electromagnetic activity. I am inclined to believe this more than most things I see on the internet because it is so consistent; so now I have an EMF detector. Groovy. Now onto protection…

“Black tourmaline absorbs EMF radiation; so wearing this bracelet will protect you from harmful electromagnetic frequencies which some people find helpful during ghost hunting.” Ooookayyy so by that logic, if I wear a lead bracelet to a dental X-ray, the lead bracelet will draw the harmful rays away from my chest and into my wrist? That’s not how physics works. Radiation is a field, which is the reason why you wear a whole lead bib when you get your teeth X-rayed. Lead absorbs radiation, but it does not draw it away; it is a shield. Furthermore, dentists do not make bibs out of black tourmaline for people to wear while they look at their teeth.

Ergo: If you want to protect yourself from the ghostly hand of influence in the form of EMF radiation — assuming EMF radiation spikes aren’t a pop culture gimmick common to alleged haunted houses, created by cooking ramen noodles in a microwave in a hidden room — the best course of action would be to wear a lead vest to your seances; because

1.) lead is PROVEN to block radiation, and 2.) a vest of lead would block this radiation from meddling with your vital organs.

Why isn’t anyone advocating for those looking to the occult to wear lead vests during seances for protection? Because they’re ugly and don’t match the Witchy Aesthetick™ companies appropriated and are now profiting off of far and wide. A lead vest is not as marketable or “natural” as black tourmaline. And let’s be honest, many many people who get into the occult nowadays are doing it to look cool or be cool because they feel as if they are boring, with gigantic holes in their self-esteem, and don’t know how else to fill them in any other way than playing into trends deemed “edgy” and “in-style” and making it their whole personality. (If you are not one of these people; then I am not talking about you. I am talking about other people. For the love of god I’m not pissing on the poor. Please.)

Also, the majority of the online witch space is filled with white people messing with other people’s cultural practices as a sort of game; which obviously impacts the credibility of the information these witches present, as well as other, worse things which I don’t even need to mention… New Age spirituality is to the cultures its practices were taken from as Taco Bell is to genuine Mexican cuisine. It can be nice and may very well work as intended but it lacks the depth and reasoning of the original.

Not to say new-age is all bad; it isn’t. There are just so many people who don’t care what something is, where it came from, or why they’re using it because “witchy” and “hippie” are hot on the market these days. It’s frustrating. That’s all.

[ducks-and-stuff]

I made this snippet of writing for a Jimmy fic but I lost motivation for it but I like the intro so I’m posting it here now

It is cold. 

People may think you a fool for many things, but you know that much at least. That today marks the end of the world and  you are cold in a way your puffy overcoat and earmuffs cannot fix. 

You also know that It is Christmas day and that you are huddled into Pearl and trying to forget that there are two of you when there are supposed to be three. But the forgetting does not work, nor has it ever, and so there are two of you when there are supposed to be  and there is a note from your best friend stuffed in your back pocket and it is Christmas and the Watchers do not care.

To be fair, though nothing ever is when it comes to your server, the Watchers aren’t exactly known for caring. They rip and tear anything they happen to sink their claws into and today, dear Listener, today you are fresh meat.

Pearl is silent as you think about all this, which is fitting. You attended your aunt’s funeral once when you were seven, and people didn’t talk much then either. It was an old church with wooden support beams and a stain glass window looming over the alter. The one you had only been to once before because of the free food at that one potluck. You had licked your fingers clean and raced across the pews with kids from your side of town until some official looking man came in and yelled at you. But today is a funeral and all you can focus on is how the dust dances where the light streams in through that one stain glass window, and now you will never see that church or light or dust again. Most people cry now, with the understanding that their energy would be best used on tears. But Pearl doesn’t cry, and you don’t either. 

Instead you say, 

“I’m scared”

and Pearl lets out a wet, humorless laugh and says

“No shit Jimmy”

And then she startles and looks away guilty, because maybe she doesn’t want those to be their final words to each other. Maybe she wants it be something poetic, something that gives you both a small glimmer of hope even when you could easily look around and see that your world  has already started cracking and hope is not some sort of glue that will magically fix it all. 

Pearl opens her mouth. 

Maybe she will say something heroic. Or Something bitter yet sweet. Something that will make you smile just a little bit, and she will smile back, and for a moment, the world will be just a little less cold.  

Pearl closes her mouth. 

You had gifted her thirty-two diamonds  earlier today, because when you woke up it was Christmas and not the day that you would die, and you had thought she would get the chance to use them. 

Today is the day you will die. 

Maybe if you repeat it enough the words will lose their meaning. 

They’re here. 

Something in your ear whispers. 

And you swallow down whatever lump has made itself known in your throat and curl into Pearl just a little more. As if that can stop what happens next. But you’re a fool for many things and you have love and you have hope but they do not give way to salvation. Instead, something in you loosens, and you are reminded that this is not how this game works. 

You cry out because it hurts. You had hoped this part would be painless but it isn’t and it’s searing and it’s all-encompassing and Pearl is holding onto you even if you’ve tried this already and you both know it’s not going to work. 

You’re pulled. 

You’re pulled away and Pearl digs her fingernails into your forearm and tries to pull you right back, because Pearl is not just scared and mad and angry and confused, she is also, between all that, a very kind person who doesn’t want her friend to die. 

Or alternatively, maybe she just doesn’t think you get the right to leave her here alone in this wretched world. 

But regardless of her reasoning in this moment, Pearl has always been a really nice person even when she could have easily been a jerk, and Jimmy wishes he had had the chance to tell her that before this moment.

“Jimmy!”

And in the distance he sees the walls and the mini-game and the campfire crack into a million pieces.

“Jimmy!”

And the name is broken and full of pain. 

“Jimmy!”

But her hands are slipping and you are already unraveling and Jimmy bolts upright and screams his sister’s name one final time as he’s dragged away and that, dear reader, is the story of how Joel got a black eye. 

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Shameless Smut Masterlist

Baby Pull Me Closer (ao3) - senioritastyles luke/calum E, 2k

Summary: In one of the short pauses between his punches Calum feels a tap on his shoulder and it breaks his concentration, making him turn around and pull his headphones out when he sees his boyfriend standing there. "Well, hello. What's the occasion?" He wonders, referring to Luke's choice in attire.

The blonde is clad tight short shorts, the black cotton ones that look straight out of an American Apparel ad, and a loose, but shorter than his normal, shirt. "Just came to see if I could motivate you since I know you've been wanting to push yourself harder when you workout."

Or: Luke distracts Calum from his workout.

Bare (ao3) - im_just_a_sucker_for_bromance calum/ashton E, 2k

Summary: When Calum made that bet with Ashton, he did not know he was gonna lose, which meant he had to do anything Ashton wanted. At first it was alright but after five days, his frustration got the best of him. Calum wanted revenge. If Ashton wanted a bare Calum, he was going to get a bare Calum.

Confession (ao3) - DarkGnome luke/ashton E, 1k

Summary: Luke is a devout Catholic. Sundays are his day where he demonstrates his faith and puts distance between him and his boyfriend. However, Ashton isn’t a fan of the word no.

_______

Or the one who Ashton shows up at church and fucks Luke in a confessional booth.

Daisy (ao3) - boomerluke luke/ashton M, 121k

Summary: The last thing Luke expects when he wakes up hungover in the bed of his latest one-night stand is to come face to face with a freaking kid. But there she is all wild curls, thumb-sucking, and nonstop questions. Luke can't get out of there fast enough.

Ashton isn't the type to have one-night stands. He's a parent, after all. It was a mistake, and it won't happen again. At least that's what he tells himself when he comes back from his shower to find the naked college kid still in his bed, arguing with Daisy.

They couldn't be more opposites. At 25, Ashton has the responsibilities of two parents, raising his daughter and trying to pretend like he has everything figured out. At 21, Luke is a self-proclaimed Grindr god who doesn't care about anyone or anything but himself. So why is the universe (with the help of Michael and Crystal) so hell-bent on seeing them together?

five stars every time that you come through (ao3) - tutorgirl luke/ashton E, 6k

Summary: date night is a tradition in their relationship that ashton takes very seriously.

Green Light (ao3) - SpencerKnight OT4 E, 181k

Summary: Class is an age old concept--almost as old as the concept of human slavery, and in a world where buying humans is a standard behavior by those who can afford it, Luke's only hope as a member of the lower class is that he falls into the hands of a decent buyer--the hands of Ashton Irwin and his partners. Luke knows he has one chance to please his buyers or he risks getting put back on the market, but he's thrown for a loop when Ashton admits that Luke is the one that gets to call the shots. In an attempt to find security with the trio, Luke braces himself and gives them the green light to do whatever they want with him.

He had no idea they would refuse.

(This isn't a slavery au in the way that you think it is.)

He's A Go-Getter, He's Everybody's Type (ao3) - senioritastyles michael/luke E, 2k

Summary: "Lukey, if you get up right now," He starts, reaching his hand down under the covers and rubbing his hand over the swell of Luke's ass, "I promise I'll eat you out and fuck you later."

Luke's eyes pop open and he turns his head backward toward Michael. "You promise?"

Or: Michael convinces Luke to get out of bed.

Howdy, Partner - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) calum/ashton, michael/luke E, 7k

Summary: When Ashton slipped on that tasseled jacket and those boots, he fucking knew what he was doing.

When he strolled into the party with a bright dimpled grin, put two long fingers on the brim of his hat and tipped it to Calum with a gruff, “Howdy, partner,” he’d known full fucking well what he was doing.

If Walls Could Talk (ao3) - boomerluke luke/ashton, ashton/ofc M, 43k

Summary: The last thing Ashton ever wanted to do was hurt Luke, but he couldn't help it. The singer was just so beautiful, so ethereal and otherworldly that it took his breath away most of the time. Everyone felt that way about their best friend though, right? It was normal. No use getting unnecessary feelings involved, it was better this way. Luke understood.

Luke wasn't sure when this thing between him and Ashton started, or how it started, but it didn't matter. He was in too deep to go back now. So Luke would let Ashton use him, hurt his feelings and crawl back with apologies. Because at the end of the day, even when Luke had to watch Ashton leave the bar with a new pretty blonde each night, he knew the drummer would eventually end up back in his bed. And Luke told himself he was okay with that.

i want you to want me this way (ao3) - orphan_account luke/ashton T, 6k

Summary: Luke just wants to show Ashton how pretty he looks. Ashton wants to ruin him.

Kiss Me On The Battlefield, Show Me What It's Like To Feel (ao3) - senioritastyles luke/calum E, 3k

Summary: Luke was in temporary heaven, knowing the small moment of tenderness with Calum would never last but he was content for the moment. Calum had graciously given him what he wanted and removed the cock cage, leaving the ring around the base that was meant to keep Luke hard, and he'd even gone so far as to use his perfect hands and jerk Luke off very slowly so as not to overexcite him too fast. Luke was the personification of blissed out, lying on his back on the couch with Calum next to him, just this side of breathless at the feeling of being touched after so long without it.

Or: Calum plays with Luke.

Maelstrom (ao3) - merlypops luke/ashton, michael/calum E, 225k

Summary: Ashton is struggling, Luke is hiding, and Michael and Calum just want to make things work. (And maybe Ashton and Luke fall in love too. Maybe.)

Step Into Your Skin? I'd Rather Jump In Your Bones (ao3) - orphan_account luke/ashton E, 4k

Summary: He liked to call Ashton "daddy" quite a bit when they were alone, and not just in bed. He liked to call him that when he was feeling a bit smaller and more vulnerable, and Ashton liked when Luke called him that. He loved taking care of his baby, he loved taking control.

sucker for the way that you move, babe (ao3) - merlypops luke/ashton E, 2k

Summary: “C'mon, baby boy,” Luke whispered, leaning down to bite gently on the older man's ear lobe as he fisted Ashton's throbbing cock, drawing a desperate whine from him. “Gonna cum on my cock, Ashy? Gonna cum from daddy fucking you open and making you moan loud enough for everyone to hear you?”

Luke looks after Ashton better than anyone ever has and they can't get enough of each other.

Taking His Time On His Ride (ao3) - IfWallsCouldMuke michael/luke E, 4k

Summary: Michael is the heir to the Clifford Enterprise.

We Were In Screaming Colour (ao3) - antisocialhood luke/ashton N/R, 3k

Summary: He was sharp blue eyes and an impeccable quiff, pale skin -the colour of a peach not yet ripe- and long limbs.

He was quirked eyebrows and teeth marks bitten into plump bottom lips, white socks with dirty soles and dimpled cheeks

~~~

Purple hued bruises were sat at the junction of Luke throat and collarbones, scattered themselves across his shoulders and resided on his thighs, fading and splotched.

It was ownership.

You Gon' Have To Do It At My Tempo (ao3) - senioritastyles luke/everyone, michael/calum, michael/ashton, calum/ashton E, 4k

Summary: "Why don't you have another competition?" He suggests, his voice small and unsure.

The boys seem caught off guard by that, all glancing at each other in a silent conversation before Calum bites his lip and looks back at Luke. "Alright, what kind of competition did you want this time then?"

Luke's surprised that they're going with his idea, so he needs another second to think before he's got another decent idea that mostly benefits him and his neglected dick. "Why not like, a blowjob competition?" The boys look confused now, their heads tilted to the side like puppies, so Luke explains. "Like, you get a minute to blow me and whoever does the best gets to touch me first."

Or: The boys have a competition to see who gets to touch Luke first.

You Got My Permission To Do What You Like (ao3) - senioritastyles OT4 E, 3k

Summary: "Ashy, you haven't stopped working since we came home." Luke mutters from his place near Ashton's head, tugging gently on the oldest boy's curls. "You never spend any time with us anymore and you're running yourself into the ground here."

"Yeah, babe when was the last time you weren't alone down here working on a song?" Calum wonders, although his tone says he already knows the answer and that Ashton really isn't supposed to say anything.

Michael sighs loudly and stands up. "You're coming with us right now and we are going to force you to relax."

Or: The boys help Ashton relax.

[tobytheeggo]

Hopelessly devoted is such a cute ship name! I am one more problematic person who likes them…I stand for LGBTQ+ rights, legal abortion and I do not plan on waiting for marriage even though everyone I know off line believes different (my entire country is Catholic lol) I think that’s why I love bad guys so much, you don’t expect them live Godly lives. My question, I know Santino’s family is Catholic but France, more so in old days and esp Chile are also high Catholic countries…how do Vincent and Chidi feel about the Church and its teachings? Are there any that they try to live by in spite of the lives they live? PS I also think smoking is disgusting almost all men here do & I hate hate hate it lol

Ack okay so many things to unpack in one ask but we’re gonna get through it all!

1. The name!

I came up with majority of the JW ship names on here but with HopelesslyDevoted, I was actually thinking about the song from ‘Grease’! The original thought process was something noble for Marquis’ half and loyalty for Chidi’s half, but then I dumbed myself down and came to the conclusion of HopelesslyDevoted

2. Problematic Instances

See when I say problematic, I mean r4p3 and p3dophili4, which are two main problems with the users who write Marquis/Chidi fics on Ao3. What you believe in as stated is completely fine if not morally correct (of course, sex before marriage is a choice so no real morality there since it’s an option), so when I say there’s problematic people who like this ship, I’m alluding to those who have written these two in non-consensual context or in weird age gaps and very triggering situations for the purpose enjoyment (AHEM Laci.)

3. Views on Catholicism by the two

Now I’m gonna be honest, my family isn’t super religious, at least to the point where they’d take me to church EVERY Sunday. The last time I’ve been to church was when I was like 6 (which was a long time ago) and the most I’ve seen my family do as a whole is pray before food. So really I can’t go too much in depth with this, unless you’d want to wait days for me to do the research (I’d get distracted) considering that I’m neither French nor Latino and I don’t know how specific areas/cultures handle their devotion to Catholicism.

The only thing I can safely assume is that Chidi is very nonchalant about it now in his adult life, and Vincent’s probably ditched the whole ideology, maybe?

4. Smoking

I don’t want to offend anyone or start anything stupid, but I hate people that smoke or do drugs solely because it makes me uncomfortable knowing they’re destroying themselves so ‘violently’ (for lack of better words). I hate the fumes, I hate the rage with vapes, I hate that minors get influenced and shit (I’m a minor), and hate that I feel like I have to be chill with it even if I personally don’t like it. The same thing goes for drinking, however I feel less guilty with alcohol. This all boils down to the fact that people get addicted and it changes their lives; like I’m all for doing whatever you want as long as it’s not hurting anyone, but me personally I’m just not that person.

If anyone asks me to expand on this I will try my best to respectfully (not that I’d be mean abt it, just that I suck at wording things)

[skylinebeemine]

Me vs Actually planning my dnd sessions more then an hour in advance

Ok I was going to continue ranting in the tags but they have gotten too long so I’ll just do it here:

Tbh I haven’t been feeling motivated to DM. I was really looking forward to it at the beginning but at this point the entire thing makes me overwhelmed. Overly preparing would probably help some with that but the nerves appear even when just planning so I can’t make the move. I definitely could tell my group this (hell they were fine with me canceling last minute and playing Jackbox instead) but also I don’t want to seem “weak” or whatever in front of them

Plus the main anxiousness that has developed out of late is from the group itself. These are basically the only friends I hang out with so they definitely do mean a lot to me, however part of me has been miserable since I’ve come out as trans. For context I never did a full sit down about me being trans but I posted a meme on the Discord and changed my name/pronouns and most of them caught on (or basically knew already)

Only once did it come up in front of me and that was when my one friend (who was away when I first came out) got corrected/corrected himself and asked me directly if my pronouns were he/him, which definitely felt nice and I’m happy he did that. Basically everyone I already knew were trans friendly but it was nice for it to be acknowledged in a nonawkard way

Yet I’m mostly nervous because of 2 specific people. The one being the friend I’ve known since kindergarten who is religious and while I wouldn’t say she is Transphobic transphobic, she definitely isn’t the most knowledgeable about trans people and has said MANY things in the past that has made me wary to come out. I’ve known this group since my senior year of high school when I already knew I was trans, yet she specifically was the reason why I held off saying anything for so long. She still has not said anything to me about it but I’m waiting for the inevitable Stupid Thing she says and idk what’s going to happen after that.

The other person is her friend from her church that she recently invited to play with us. While he is nice and everything, and I don’t think he would start a fight about it, I don’t think he’s very trans friendly. It’s mostly a vibe thing, but I’m just nervous that someone will correct him about my name/pronouns and he will say an offhand comment that will start a fight. And even though I know everyone else would be on my side I just hate that this has to be something I’m even thinking about. Why can’t everyone just refer to me as a guy and move on without the awkward slip ups or uncomfortable moments?

Anyways I don’t want to voice any of these concerns to the group but this whole situation is making me not want to DM, but I don’t want to disappoint everyone so guess I’ll suffer in silence until the inevitable Conversation

[barbaramoorersm]

November 26, 2023

November 26, 2023

Christ the King

Eziekiel 34:11-12, 15-17

The prophet speaks of God in terms of a Shephard.

Psalm 23

This psalm fits beautifully with our first reading.

1st Corinthians 15: 20-26, 28

Paul sees Jesus’ work as destroying God’s enemies.

Matthew 25: 31-46

We close the church year with Matthew’s text about the last judgement.

As this church year closes, it is fitting to turn to this Gospel which enables us to look back on our actions, and to look forward hoping that what Jesus considers critical, can be the same for us as this new church year unfolds.  This feast established in 1925, has its roots in a historical period when nations were exercising great power, and secularism was on the rise.

For Jesus, his core life values are clearly seen in today’s Gospel.  I am afraid that some of us especially, in public life, who claim the Bible as their guide, fail to remember this list.  The hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick, and those in prison are central.  And the next line is very critical.  Jesus adds to today’s parable, “Whatever you did for one of these least brothers and sisters of mine, you did it for me.”  I often fail to make that link.  These conditions can be actual or spiritual.  Some of us are hungry for justice and thirst for peace.  Some of us have been actual strangers or treated as such by our situations. Some experience a homelessness because of their race, faith, or culture.  Many feel a kind of nakedness by loss of a job, reputation, security, or health.  There are many ways to interpret what Jesus meant.  But the clarity of his words, “What you did for the least of these, my brothers and sisters” is hard to misinterpret.  There is a big divide between the title of Christ the King and Jesus Christ who is aliening himself with a homeless, sick, naked, or poor person of our day.

Our Gospel today shares with us the kind of Kingdom Jesus envisions for the Church.  What if the feast was renamed.  “Christ the Homeless One,” or “Christ the Stranger Among Us,” or “Christ the Diseased Person Among Us.”  It might be startling to hear these titles.  But isn’t that what Jesus is saying?  “I am the least one among you.”  And I believe Jesus is not just referring to those in the Christian community, but to a much wider community.

The kind of Kingdom Jesus is hoping to establish is far removed from many of the Kingdoms of this world and the values of many who hold or desire hold power.

This is the last Sunday of the Church year and when you think about it, it unveils the agenda of the one who came as a dependent child, naked, poor, homeless and with little power and influence.  In every sense of the term, Jesus was born on the margins of his culture and they became an integral part of his mission and life.  He had the heart and capacity to be with and stand with the wealthy, the foreigner in the Roman and Samaritan, the outcast, and poor members of his community.

Perhaps as this beautiful season unfolds, we might want to ask when we have found ourselves or others in the conditions Jesus outlines in this Gospel.  Found them either literally or figuratively.  One minister once told me that when she faced a visit with a difficult, sick person, she would remind herself, “I am on my way to visit Jesus.”

May this coming Advent season deepen our appreciation of today’s Gospel.

[salemsaberhxgen]

re; chilling adventures of sabrina bio

  so this will mainly be following the chilling adventures of sabrina horror comic books since it provides a lot more detail in regards to salem’s origin story but i will include/change elements to make it show canon compliant. of course keep in mind that we know very little from the actual show so i take a lot of creative liberty in regards to his personality as well as exact details. this maybe be updated as we learn more about him from the new comics when they pick up after the series finale. the main difference from show canon being that, as in the comics, salem can talk. as seen in his introductory scene ( link to a clip here ), he talks to sabrina. i can only assume this is a telepathic connection which is characteristic of witches & their familiars, but he isn’t a typical familiar. in the comics familiars are often demons such as in the case of salem being a goblin, but in either case ( as far as i’m concerned ), salem has the ability to speak. i chose to ignore the possibility that being killed & resurrected as a goblin would have taken away his ability to speak but that’s just my opinion. now onto the actual bio:

  trigger warnings: severe animal abuse, detailed descriptions of violence & death, age gap ( 9 years ), pregnancy/unwanted baby/implied abortion/implied child abuse, hangings, mention of disease ( the black plague ), i think that’s all but yea it’s pretty fucked up. if you need the cliffnotes but are uncomfortable reading, this is a-okay, just let me know & i can give you the rundown minus the triggering content.

in the coas timeline, salem was a powerful warlock who pissed off an even more powerful witch who then turned him into a goblin. he can take whatever form he wants but chooses a black cat.

while samuel possessed some powers, no one would consider him a proper warlock. with no training, he stood no match against ANYTHING magic. he didn’t know how to use what he had, nor even how much he had. so he went through life as a mortal, able to perform only the simplest of what he assumed to be spells, though all were of his own creation.

it was the winter of 1692 when samuel’s ship ( the black pearl ) arrived at boston harbor. many of the men on board were sick with the plague or had already died from it. but by some miracle ( or perhaps some magic ), samuel was untouched & he made his way ashore. prospects for a sailor were quite limited in boston, but he’d heard a tip that there might be work in salem village. found himself stopped at the outskirts of the village, near the edge of a forest. it was there he came upon a farmer cutting down his corn; a farmer named john proctor.

then on, from dawn to dusk, he worked the fields with john. at the end of the day, samuel then had dinner with john’s family; his wife elizabeth, his sons benjamin & william. & his servantgirl abigail williams. but samuel's hubris was greater than was safe & he wanted more.

he & abigail became… close. weekly visits became nightly. except on nights of the full moon. nights of the full moon, he slept alone in the barn with the other animals. on sundays they all went to mass at the reverend parris’ church. the reverend preached fire & brimstone but samuel actually liked going to services. he liked to people watch, he liked seeing the people who lived in the town. but especially so, he liked to see the girls abigail gossiped with after mass. & one in particular, mercy lewis.

as time passed, samuel grew closer to the protor family. then, one day, abigail came to him in the dead of night.

❝ samuel, i am with child. will you marry me? please? ❞ she begged him.

❝ abby i have nothing… i can give you nothing… ❞ was all the answer he could give.

❝ then you’ve ruined me & i am lost. ❞

& for a long time, neither of them said anything after that… what would they have said? the next day he waited for the shoe to drop, for some outburst or accusation but none happened. at dinner that night, nothing happened. after dinner, he went to her. if she hadn’t said anything yet, there was still a chance…

❝ why haven’t you told them yet? john or his icy wife? ❞

❝ why should i tell? there is nothing they can do for me. ❞

❝ you should run away then, now while there’s still time… find a remote place where you can have the child. & then do with it as you will. ❞ while his words offered agency, the implication was that what she will do with it would involve taking its life in one way or another.

❝ … you… you would have be abandon the child… our child… or.. or kill it…? ❞

❝ children die every day, abigail. many of them in childbirth. ❞

❝ i curse you, samuel. i curse the day you came here… ❞

but even then, she said nothing to the proctors. but their seeming closeness had not gone unseen.

❝ do you fancy her then? elizabeth says you do. she wonders if you two will marry some day… ❞ john finallly inquires.

❝ i am too young, john. & abigail… would never have me. ❞

abby comes to find to find samuel in the barn not 2 days later.

❝ i did go to see my aunt — but not to new hampshire. to these woods where my aunti nesther lives. ❞

❝ what.. what kind of woman lives in the woods? ❞

but i knew what kind. i’d heard the stories. & suddenly, they were all around me… the girls of salem village. the witches in the woods.

❝ i gave you a chance, samuel… you ruined me but i gave you a chance. you made our dark lord very angry, samuel. he wanted blood, samuel, your blood. so i gave it to him. & his dark highness was pleased. ❞

❝ wh-what blood? how come you to have my blood? ❞ 

❝ i had it samuel, inside me. ❞

❝ our baby..? … you gave him our babe…? ❞

❝ children die every day, you said… you did not want it, you said… it were a boy, by the by… but still, he ate it…  ❞

❝ monster. witch. devil’s whore. ❞

❝ better his whore than yours. & better our son die than live to meet the woard who is his father. now… … let us discuss the matter of punishment. you trifled with me, samuel… i was a plaything to you, a poppet, a ball of string… you would have had me drown our child as someone would a basket of kittens… ❞

❝ make him one. ❞

❝ what was that, auntie nesther? ❞

❝ every witch needs a familiar. you’re old enough now. make him a cat & let him eat mice. ❞

❝ hmmm, a cat… it’s more than you deserve… …you villain…  you shall goe intell ane catt… with sorrow, & sych… & a black shott… … & i shall goe in the devil’s name… … ay while i come home againe… ❞

he walked into those woods a man named samuel… & was carried out of them a cat with no name. at least as a cat, & a witch’s familiar to boot, he had a hope of surviving…

now abigail was a clever girl, no doubt, but she was so focused on her wicked games, she missed the early warning signs… the troubles in salem village as they came to be known, started not long after his transformation… doubt & paranoia ruled the day, as accusations of witchcraft spread across the down, like rats carrying the plague.

some of the people hung were, indeed, witches. others like john proctor were merely caught in the gears of some infernal machine… either way, his mistress abigail was taking no chances. she plotted her escape with mercy lewis… while samuel made his. 

as he was leaving the village, he’d found himself pelted by rocks, some young boys no older than 9 or 10 had likely come to see the hanging place where the corpses of witches & mortals alike were twisting in the wind… but instead of staring after the dead bodies, they found it more interesting to add to the death toll. it happened so quick, the time between the first rock slingshotted to his side & the decent of three boys crowding him with kicks & stomps to drive him into the dirt. the pain wracked his body but with one final piercingly painful kick to his skull he lost conciousness.

but much to his surprise, he awoke. he felt different, like something had fundamentally changed in his person. then, he realised he was in no pain. there was blood pooled & dried into the dirt where he’d been laying moments ago, but he, himself, was in one piece without a single scratch. 

then came a deep & comanding voice, once samuel turned to face its origin, the words seen leaving the lips of a goat or ram, anthropomorphised & bipedal. hugely towering over samuel’s new & revived cat form.

❝ this wretched place will always be remembered for the butchery done to my wives & daughters… my brothers & sons… from this moment forth, thou shalet be named for this place, so thoust never forgets what happens when witches are betrayed… speak, slave. ❞

❝ speak what?  ❞ samuel says, suddenly able talk in his human voice again. ❝ why can i speak, devil? what have you planned for me? ❞

❝ you will serve witches & you speak to serve better. & one day, thoust will serve a girl who is both less than a witch & more… she will need your protection, slave… ❞

❝ & then will i be human again? ❞

❝ perhaps… there is a path through the woods… follow it, salem, & remember who spared your life… remember who is your master now…  ❞

defend her, the devil had said, her life will depend on it. & now, here salem is, four hundred years later, working with sabrina & the spinsters… not eating mice.

note: once “samuel” had been killed, satan revived him as a goblin, not just a cat. what exactly this means for him will be posted at some point but all that’s really important is what i had said above the cut; what his new goblin form looks like, that he can still speak, & also that he can turn into any animal ( other than a human in order to better serve as a familiar ).

[foxbox23232]

The really cool thing about BOTH of these people is they came from the literal opposite of Christianity which is new age/ w*tchcraft / atheism. And both got radically saved and literally encountered God. I am friends with many deliverance ministers and also have seen a few of my friends and friends like family get delivered and it’s very real I don’t know why even Christians make it into this taboo thing when Jesus himself commanded us to cast out demons. It’s not just for the disciples it’s still a thing going on today otherwise it wouldn’t work and people wouldn’t get freedom and manifest and like I’ve seen it and also been through it myself it’s so real it’s insane. I remember the first time I got delievred I was like wow this is what it feels like to breathe again… (Having dealt with asthma, broken nose bones, allergies) and And not only that but I felt a peace/joy I can only remember feeling when I was maybe 11 or 12 years old and haven’t felt that way probably since and I thought it would just go away but it didn’t it actually remained and stayed and I was like wow life actually isn’t unbearable it was literally just a demon suffocating me and squeezing the life out of me… like I literally felt born again in the most profound way. but ya the reason why so many are still sick mentally and physically is because many churches don’t understand their authority in Christ and justify keeping their demons for some odd reason??? Lol like you want to get sick? Keep lying? Stay addicted t to things like a slave? Stay miserable? Cheat on your wife? Whatever demons like to do like oK buddy. I like how Isaiah mentioned the cessationist preacher who bagged on him but get exposed cheating on his wife like these ARE the kinds of people who justify keeping their demons by the way. Anyways..

I would suggest to newbies to watch like all of Isaiah Saldivars videos they are phenomenal I am a huge fan. Gets straight to the point, super honest/ humble guy, provides scripture to back up his points. I remember like 1-2 years ago when I started learning it is hard at first because the demons don’t like it and it opposes the flesh but eventually it gets easier as we get closer to God he starts to protect us and we are finally capable of understanding things we couldn’t access before. We should use our brains while we have one and we are also commanded to. But ya I remember when I started praying I got sick and threw up I had a demon preventing me from praying. But the more I fought and perused God he eventually healed me to pray every single day multiple times a day, read bible, finally enjoy worship music, etc.

Because thou hast rejected knowledge, I will also reject thee. Hosea 4:6

And also, it is very unwise to just deliver anybody. Because they need a relationship with God first. I have heard of some cases of unbelievers getting delivered (which is very rare) BUT they were willing to bet it all if it didn’t work. And the ones who kept their word they did get delivered, saved, healed, and never reverted. For the ones who weren’t willing to do the work like read bible everyday unfortunately it didn’t work out for them. They could get healed of everything, sure, but if they go back to sin (by choice) it could potentially get even worse for them. With no relationship with God your foundation is sinking sand. You can empty the house but the wonderer comes back if you don’t lock the door. The devil is a lion seeking those to destroy. Especially christians and those kinds of Christians who know a lot. So yes, unfortunately if you choose to go back to the sin you may have more problems. This is why most delievrance misnisters will never touch a unbeliever because they have to be willing to have an encounter and do the work if it works. But really they should be doing the work already which is simply reading bible even a short time a day and praying. The bar is pretty low honestly. And probably fasting too. My old house church taught me warfare is praying, reading bible, fasting, going to church, worship music, etc. but the number one most important thing if you ever want to see the hand of God is read the Bible.

So good

[jackrrabbit]

Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaul’s not interested in your soul.

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? Hahaha…anyway…

@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworks—if it’s not too late, here’s my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!

Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that it’s not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichés, Overhaul calls you “little girl” 👉👈

He doesn’t look like a demon.

Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. But…red skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, that’s the Disney version—but even if you didn’t expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didn’t expect this.

He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, he’s a little young to really look like a doctor…an intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.

Overhaul. It was written in the book. That’s the only thing you have to call him in your head.

He’s standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyed—that’s not a good sign, is it?—but then again, of course he’s annoyed. You’d be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, you’re lucky he even showed up…although ‘lucky’ isn’t really how you’d describe yourself most days.

“So,” Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice you’ve made in your relatively short life. “You’re dying.”

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

You nod again, wondering if you’re supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. It’s a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like you’ve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.

“Fine.” He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yours—and you shiver.

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

“Make me an offer,” Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.

Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it weren’t obvious enough that you’re terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. He’s giving you a chance to establish parameters. You’re supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. That’s what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.

Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.

“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”

You swallow. “How long do I have left?”

“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“

“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”

“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”

Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”

“Simple enough. What else?”

‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”

Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”

“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.

Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.

Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.

“Ow?” You wince.

The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”

He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—

“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.

“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.

“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.

…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”

“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”

The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”

“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”

Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”

This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.

Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”

Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.

You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”

“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.

Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.

“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.

Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”

“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”

At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.

He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.

“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.

Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!

“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.

Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”

You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.

“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.

“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.

This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.

You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it’s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).

“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.

“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.

No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.

“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”

“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.

You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.

“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”

Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.

“Not here.”

“What—?”

You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…

Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.

Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.

Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.

You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?

You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”

“You should know this place.”

And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“

“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.

The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.

“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. “Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”

“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.

“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”

The…promise?

A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”

“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”

A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.

“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.

///

Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.

“Look at me.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.

“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.

“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.

He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”

Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…

“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”

Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…

But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.

You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.

“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…

And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?

It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.

“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”

“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“

“Then look at me.”

It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.

Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.

Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.

“Does it hurt?”

A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“

“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.

And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”

This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“

The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”

“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.

You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.

“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”

“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”

“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”

“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.

“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything’s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!

And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.

You didn’t know it was like this.

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:

because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?

///

It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.

What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.

Overhaul’s still here.

He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.

You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?”

“Yes—”

At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.

“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”

“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.

Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.

It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”

He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.

When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.

“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.